


Unknown

by fragilespark



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-08 06:03:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5486351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragilespark/pseuds/fragilespark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Templar Carver is hurt, and Merrill takes care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unknown

**Author's Note:**

> Written for spiritofemby on tumblr

Eighteen. He thought he knew it all, and then the darkspawn came.  
Nineteen. He thought he’d done it all; he’d killed a man now.  
Twenty. He thought he’d seen it all, until a mission went horribly wrong.

He’d encountered abominations before. He’d never watched a friend become one.

Carver should have known. In Kirkwall, there was no such thing as routine. Two templar recruits out to retrieve any artifacts that might have washed up on the shore. Mostly fruitless, although the sea air did them good. No unusual reports from the guard patrol that had been out on the Wounded Coast that very morning.

They had bonded after discovering they both had mage siblings, and Carver had made friends with them both. When they saw her on the Coast their dull trip was brightened. Briefly.

She had found something. She wasn’t going to let them have it.

It was alarming how quickly it happened. The demon must have already ensnared her before they found her. Her body began warping with every pulse of her power, her features disappearing into a twisted monstrosity.

None of their training had really prepared them for this. Neither could move; unable to comprehend that this was now something they had to kill, at all costs.

It blasted a spell at them, and they were knocked back. Carver’s survival instinct kicked in and he wielded his blade, charging with the flat of it. It was a vain hope; he was still buying time for her to turn back. The abomination stumbled but had grown larger than Carver, gaining a physical strength which reflected its magical power.

It struck Carver, a sickening crunch against metal and flesh, and he flew back, smacking his head on a rock.

He watched the rest in a haze, trying to breathe through the pain, through the blood that poured from his nose over his lips, willing his body to do anything to help.

The abomination tore lightning into her brother, and he screamed and speared her with his blade. She ripped life from his throat; his eyes went white as she sought to feed her strength with his own. They were both too damaged to survive it and their fall was the last thing Carver saw before he blacked out.

 

“Carver.”

A cool breeze stroked his face. Then a hand.

A warm hand. “Carver.”

It was so hard to open his eyes. So he didn’t. He knew he was in the shade. He knew that voice.

_Merrill_.

“Sahlin dareth…” she murmured sadly.

Carver felt as though sand filled his lungs, but he wanted to make the effort to speak, for her. “…I… I’m here…”

“Carver! Ma serannas! Oh, I’m so glad - they were all the potions I had, I should really carry more, but you know I always think ‘I could make some’…”

The light hurt as he squinted up. It was good to see her. So good. She stopped and smiled down at him. Even though he knew her magic was as dark as anything he’d faced, he was not afraid.

“I should carry bandages too. I’m afraid your ribbon thing is going to need a thorough wash after this.”

Carver’s mind slowly worked its way to interpret what she was saying. Ribbon thing. “My… sash?”

“Yes, that’s it. It’s red though, so it shouldn’t stain too badly.”

Carver closed his eyes again. If she kept talking, it seemed as though everything would be alright.

 

The sunlight had moved. He didn’t know how long he’d drifted off, but the glare flickered between the leaves and made him scowl in irritation.

“Did you not like it?”

He looked up at Merrill. “Huh?”

“The song. I think I’m out of practice, you know.”

“You… sang?” Carver was incredibly sorry he had missed it.

“Yes. I thought that’s why you woke up. It’s rather a romantic notion though. In stories, people are always being woken up by songs, or kisses.”

Carver felt his pulse get livelier at the thought of Merrill kissing him. “Did you- did you try?”

Merrill smiled. “No. Not yet. Oh! You’re looking better now. You were so pale.”

He was in no condition to sit up, so it was all he could do not to squirm under her gaze as he flushed.

“Would you like some water?”

Carver shook his head. He did want some, but it could wait. He needed rest.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Could you… sing again?”

 

He didn’t expect that she would actually kiss him.

It occurred to him that she must have cleaned his face. His lips were dry, but he couldn’t feel or taste the blood that would have dried on them.

Did she know he had woken up? If she did, she didn’t stop. His eyes fluttered open briefly before he responded, tilting his face up and pressing his lips against hers. He didn’t mind the world spinning so much then. He put a weak arm around her and she stopped, looking down at him.

“It worked. You’re straight out of a story, Carver.”

“So are you.”

“Not one of Varric’s though. Those are-”

Carver started laughing. It was choked and painful, but he was so happy to have her in his arms, dispelling the horrors of the day. The sun was low in the sky, bathing them both in its warm glow. He would have to try to get up, if they were going to make it back into the city before dark. Moving was the last thing he wanted to do, but despite what people seemed to think, he wasn’t stupid. “Can you help me up?”

Merrill nodded and braced for his weight, and between them they got him sitting upright.

Wincing at the acute injuries all over his body, it took Carver a moment before he could even consider trying to stand.

“Here, use this.” Merrill dragged his blade within reach.

“Thanks.”

The air seemed to thin as he struggled to take a deep breath. Merrill stayed beside him, patient and ready, and he found the strength in his legs.

She held onto him as he stood. He didn’t want to let go.

“Slowly.”

He nodded and looked around. There was only charred ground where the battle had been. He let Merrill guide him away, one hand on his waist, the other on his chestplate.

 

He thought he knew it all, and then he fell in love.


End file.
